Hilaree Duchamp, Robb Sugar's Next Door Neighbor from "Marines Love Prison"

 

Maynard from Pulp Fiction vs. Todd Akin (Rest in Piss, Teabagger!)

 

Capsize Your Narrative

Generational narcissism is your only narrative

Got a past, present, and future of embarrassment

You could break the cycle, but that ain’t fun

So you plant your flagpole like an army of one

Scream your head off and then play the victim

Tears in your eyes when you’re asked to listen

Mucous in your nose when you’re held accountable

Not by yourself, because those odds are insurmountable

What will it take? Some cuffs on your wrists?

Or bloody knuckles over the wrong guy’s fist?

Or a trip to the afterlife, the point of no return?

Strike the match, your legacy is yours to burn

Every dollar you made, every friend you abandoned

All the art you consumed, all the raging fandom

It doesn’t mean a damn thing in the very end

Because your actions and words I will never defend

So what happens next? Do you pass on your genes?

To the next generation of hateful teens?

I wouldn’t put it past you, because it sounds imperative

Your only mission in life is to capsize your narrative

Be Disgusting

VERSE 1

They’re always the first to play the victim

And then label you as the genocidal villain

Embrace your dark side like it’s all you got

Stuck in this role whether you like it or not

Teabags, fisting, not a whole lot of resisting

F-bombs, S-bombs, jokes about their moms

Exploiting the deaths of their grandparents

“There’s a place in hell for entitled Karens”

PRE-CHORUS

Put on your dark cloak, laugh like a freak

Unzip your fly and give them a sneak peek

You are the monster that they’ve created

God, it never felt so good to be this hated!

CHORUS 1

Be! Disgusting! B-E disgusting!

Be! Disgusting! ‘Cause nobody’s worth trusting!

VERSE 2

Kyle’s brother didn’t die because of a vaccine

He just never knew what family love means

Gloria’s daughter didn’t need essential oils

Still got a body covered in lesions and boils

What’s the matter, Todd? Did I offend you?

You did the same to me, it was time to end you

I’m what you see when you look in the mirror

I sunk to your low, can I make it any clearer?

PRE-CHORUS

Put on your dark cloak, laugh like a freak

Unzip your fly and give them a sneak peek

You are the monster that they’ve created

God, it never felt so good to be this hated!

CHORUS 2

Be! Revolting! B-E revolting!

Be! Revolting! No hands are worth holding!

BRIDGE

Dr. Frankenstein’s got nothing on them

Could build an army of temporary friends

It’s all seduction no matter how you slice it

So take their Kool-Aid and fucking spike it

PRE-CHORUS

Put on your dark cloak, laugh like a freak

Unzip your fly and give them a sneak peek

You are the monster that they’ve created

God, it never felt so good to be this hated!

CHORUS 3

Be! Repulsive! B-E repulsive!

Be! Repulsive! Take nobody’s bullshit!

Be! Disgusting! B-E disgusting!

Be! Disgusting! Now their armor is rusting!

Be! Disgusting!

Be! Disgusting!

Be! Disgusting!

B-E disgusting!

Hope Punk

VERSE 1

Worldwide genocide, national pride

Taking the sheep for a nickel ride

Insanity is the brand new reason

Jingoism is the brand new treason

Thinking hate is something great

It’s sealing this world’s final fate

Dictators pop up in every country

I don’t find this shit normal or funny

CHORUS

Hey, Hope Punk! Let’s rise up!

Let’s show them we can win this one!

Hey, victim! Rise from the grave!

No more living like mindless slaves!

Hey, Hope Punk! Hey, victim!

Let love conquer this unjust system!

VERSE 2

Refuse, resist, stay fucking pissed

No one tells us how to fucking live

Never tell us to sit down and take it

Dystopian bullshit will never make it

Build utopia from our hearts and souls

Everybody matters in these new roles

Be an activist, the fucking catalyst

Worldwide change can be arranged

CHORUS

Hey, Hope Punk! Let’s rise up!

Let’s show them we can win this one!

Hey, victim! Rise from the grave!

No more living like mindless slaves!

Hey, Hope Punk! Hey, victim!

Let love conquer this unjust system!

VERSE 3

Democracy doesn’t have to die

To say otherwise is a blatant lie

Some doubters will never even try

Content to let their lives pass them by

The countdown clock is ticking away

Won’t settle for less for another day

Won’t settle for mediocre or just okay

We’ve got the power, we’re here to stay

CHORUS

Hey, Hope Punk! Let’s rise up!

Let’s show them we can win this one!

Hey, victim! Rise from the grave!

No more living like mindless slaves!

Hey, Hope Punk! Hey, victim!

Let love conquer this unjust system!

FINAL WORDS

Hey, Hope Punk!

Hey, victim!

Hey, Hope Punk!

Time to bring the loudest funk!

Chronomancer

CHORUS 1

Chronomancer! Dickless Tracy!

Colonel Mouse Turd! Fucking face me!

I’ve paid for every one of my sins!

Throw your evidence in the garbage bin!

VERSE 1

Time is a weapon deadlier than a gun

Past, present, and future become one

Anxiety, depression, hostile aggression

Every mistake becomes worthy of mention

I’ve said I’m sorry about a million times

You’ve stayed quiet about your own crimes

How convenient since you need an attorney

To guide you through your criminal journey

CHORUS 2

Chronomancer! Sherlock Home Wrecker!

Missus Pee Cock! Go on record!

Tell everyone how horrible I am!

Forget your own sins, your own jam!

VERSE 2

The future looks grim for the atoners

Turning social butterflies into loners

Turning the past into something that lasts

Forever on a radio show on full blast

I’ve been explaining, yet you don’t hear me

Trying to make my own loved ones fear me

Chronomancer, you don’t have the answers

You’re just a loud and obnoxious bastard

BRIDGE

Those who truly need their final closure

Will always believe it’ll never be over

Thanks to you and your holy crusade

The trauma and drama will never fade

CHORUS 3

Chronomancer! TJ Crooked!

Mister Body Bag! I knew you wouldn’t

Have the guts to see this all the way through!

You’re just a disc jockey with a loose screw!

Pornomancer! You’re the cancer!

You’re the keeper of false answers!

Don’t even try to cast your stones!

You can’t even control your own bone!

Dark Skills

“Tonight, tonight, tonight, hot damn tonight!” chuckled Matt Singleton while he was playing pocket pool in the empty streets. The closer he treaded towards Michelle Woods’ apartment, the harder he masturbated. With a jacket hood over his face, baggy sweat pants to mask his perverted activity, and not a cop or security camera in sight, he could easily get in and out, both literally and figuratively.

He ascended the stairs to Michelle’s apartment and overheard the sounds of a motor running coinciding with a feminine black voice’s cries of pain. Matt stroked himself even harder and got a sadistic, bloodthirsty grin on his face. The feminine voice’s screams were reduced to M noises and Matt’s smile widened to Cheshire Cat levels of terror. “I had no idea she was into that!” he chuckled to himself.

When he saw that the door to Michelle’s apartment was slightly ajar, his quarter moon grin flattened as did his perpetual hard-on. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he said while pulling a hatchet out of his coat pocket. Knowing nobody was coming to save his newest victim, Matt kicked the door open and pulled back his hood to reveal disheveled blond hair and missing teeth. “I don’t believe this shit.”

Matt Singleton’s twisted imagination was justified, but not in the way he had hoped. Rather than screams of pornographic pleasure, Michelle’s pain was as permanent as the tattoo being etched into her lower back. Carl Howard had once again beat Matt to the punch and stuck his nose (among other things) where it didn’t belong. The chubby biker decked out in black leather was the one writing “Dark Skills” into Michelle’s skin while the sobbing victim was bent over the couch with a rag in her mouth.

“Carl!” whined Matt for a prolonged period of time. “How many times do I have to tell you to mind your own damn business and get your own kills?! I saw Michelle first! I actually did my homework on this bitch!”

Carl tossed the tattoo pen aside and hissed, “Homework? As in taking photos of her through the window like a fucking stalker? That’s not homework. That’s just you being too much of a pussy to talk to women yourself. Michelle and I are already on a first name basis. Isn’t that right, baby girl?” The last sentence was punctuated by Carl lightly slapping Michelle on her pink panty-wearing ass, to which she gave another muffled cry.

“Good job, dumb-ass!” said Matt while mockingly applauding with the hatchet in his hand. “She could have called the police any time and had you arrested! You stick out like a nun at a porn convention, my friend. You think intimidating her is going to be enough to keep her quiet?”

“Nah, but the rag in her mouth is,” said Carl as he once again tapped Michelle’s ass. “Besides, if you actually had a brain in that busted up skull of yours, you’d know how important mind games are. She ain’t going to tell anybody. Are you, baby girl?” Once Michelle shook her head, she got another slap, but this time on the thighs.

Matt shook his own head and snickered, “So this is where our conversations always go, isn’t it? You always steal my victims and then you justify it with some bullshit excuse. I know this comes as a surprise to you, but I haven’t gotten laid in a while, buddy. I’ve been picking out victims left and right…” He tiptoed up to Michelle and stroked her long hair with the yellow streak. “But there’s nobody quite like her. She’s got the beauty. She’s got the brains. Hell, up until I kicked open the door, I thought she was getting ready for some kinky shit. And then you show up, Carl…you, the hard-on assassinator. I’m sick and tired of this shit, Carl. I need my fix!”

“You want your fix?” asked Carl as he shoved Michelle to the floor. “You want to get laid? Shit, man, all you had to do was ask. But I’m not the one you should be asking. Why don’t you ask that uncle of yours to bend you over some more? You see, Matt…I do my homework too. You’ve pissed me off so many times that I actually took pride in my studies. That uncle of yours…he did some things to you, didn’t he? Things that involved you having a permanent case of diarrhea, if you know what I mean. Congratulations, Matty-Boy: you’re a walking commercial for Huggies diapers!”

As Carl hyena laughed at Matt’s miserable past, Matt himself clutched his skull and rocked back and forth while fighting the traumatic memory. He could feel the dirty, pus-filled limb going in and out of him. He remembered how his “permanent case of diarrhea” mixed with chunks of blood and splooge. The rancid smell of Uncle Singleton’s crotch. The bloodbath sewage smell of his own dumps. They all came flooding back to him like a tidal wave of life juices washing over his once young and innocent face. Carl’s laughter made those thoughts rush even faster around his explosive mind.

“Shut the fuck up, you fat piece of shit!” roared Matt before jumping across the couch and attempting to slice open Carl’s head like a watermelon. The chubby biker grabbed his assailant’s wrist to prevent the blow, but the two of them wrestled to the floor anyways. As Michelle screamed through her gag on the floor with them, the two serial killers struggled to push the hatched blade to each other’s faces. Carl, being the stronger of the two, was able to inch it towards Matt’s face and peel of a layer of his cheek.

Licking the blood off of Matt’s face, Carl said, “Is this what you wanted, lover boy? Is this the Freudian excuse you were looking for?”

Matt head butted Carl in his thick skull and bust his own forehead open more than he did his opponent’s. Matt’s horny smile suggested a lack of fucks given. He head butted Carl again. And again. And again. Blood washed over Matt’s face in an unholy baptism while Carl’s own forehead formed a tiny rip. “I could do this all day, motherfucker!” chimed Matt. “My fucked up mind is feeling pretty good right now. A little dizziness is good for psychological trauma.”

Carl managed to rip the hatchet out of Matt’s hands and stand over his opponent like a barbarian over a rotten carcass. “Don’t worry, you little pansy. Close those pretty blue eyes of yours. Here comes a lovely little lullaby for an anxious child!” Carl raised the blade over his head and brought it down with brutal force. Any shot that powerful would have decapitated not only an elephant, but the entire jungle kingdom.

But not Matt Singleton. In his blood-drenched dizziness, he found the tattoo pen and jabbed it in Carl Howard’s eye, while the hatchet was only centimeters away from Matt’s nose. Matt ripped out a chunk of brain from Carl’s skull and the chubby killer plopped backwards on the floor, spilling his blood all over the shag carpet. Matt’s head continued to gush like a geyser of violence, spilling his own juices over the floor as he sat up to face a trembling Michelle, who spit out the gag a long time ago.

Not even the silky pink underwear on a beautiful black body could revitalize Matt’s horny attitude. He stood up and wobbled on his way over to the victim he worked so hard to claim. “You think this is funny, Michelle?” he asked as blood oozed onto her lap.

Michelle shook her head and sobbed, “No, there’s nothing funny about it. Please let me go!”

“Sure, no problem,” said Matt as he spit a glob of red juice onto the couch. “I’ll just let you skedaddle out the front door like nothing happened. Go on. Leave. I’ve got no use for you now that my hard-on’s not coming back anytime soon.”

“Sorry for your loss,” stuttered Michelle as she slowly stood up to try and exit.

Matt grabbed a hold of her hair and yanked her back to the floor. “What did you say about my loss? Huh? You trying to be a comedian? You think rape is funny?! You think this is all just some Freudian bullshit?!” he yelled while Michelle sobbed loudly. “There are things in this life worse than death! If I could die right now, I’d be one smiling motherfucker! But you, Michelle…you don’t deserve to get off that easy. I came here tonight and had old wounds reopened, bloody forehead aside. Now I’m going to leave you with something more permanent than an uncle’s dirty dick!”

Matt retrieved the tattoo pen and cleaned the blood off of it with his jacket. He then threw it to the side and said, “You know what? Tattoos are for pussies! They can be lasered off for a few hundred bucks! But a hatched job…that’s something that truly lasts forever!”

The killer retrieved the blade, grabbed Michelle by her hair, and bent her over the couch kicking and screaming. “Shut up!” he belted while reading the tattoo job on her lower back. “Dark Skills, my ass! Carl ain’t got shit for skills! Let me show you what the real mark of the beast looks like!”

Slowly and painfully, Matt Singleton carved the number 666 into Michelle’s lower back, completely erasing the tattoo job from earlier with permanent scars and a river of blood.  The viscous mess gave Matt a rush of adrenaline that not only sped up the bleeding in his own forehead, but also the blood flowing into a part of his body he was sure he’d never use again. It stood up proudly. It beamed with life. Matt could smile again. Then the killer blacked out from the blood loss and fell on his ass, dying with a smile on his face and a hard-on in his sweatpants once again. Michelle Woods was alive and kicking, but Matt Singleton took her soul to the grave with him anyways.

The Media

VERSE 1

Caught on camera, a vicious beating

Made me throw up what I was eating

Made me blow a fuse just like dynamite

Your son’s heart beats booze and cyanide

Teach your child some real lessons

Not to use hate and fear as weapons

Not to blame others for his own undoing

Not to be surprised when parents are suing

CHORUS X2

It is not the media’s fault

That your son’s an ass and he got caught

VERSE 2

He laughs at suicide whenever it happens

Laughs at the mourners, calls them faggots

His ribs are broken from the many chuckles

His knees are shaking as they start to buckle

Let’s see him pick a fight with a true giant

Let’s see his lips quiver in the dead of silence

Let’s see his blood pressure hit the maximum

Piss a million gallons and call it going platinum

CHORUS X2

It is not the media’s fault

That your son’s an ass and he got caught

VERSE 3

In the end, he’s nothing but a coward

He thought he wielded the ultimate power

But all he got was a golden shower

His tight jockey shorts smell a little sour

All the bravado was for absolutely nothing

All the laughter never led to something

Now he’s got a spotlight burning so bright

He’s shitting himself from the stage fright

CHORUS

It is not the media’s fault

That your son’s an ass and he got caught

It is not the victim’s fault

That your son’s another brick in the wall

It is not the judge’s fault

That his dad has lost his balls

Blame yourself and no one else

Blame yourself for building your own hell

FINAL LINE X4

It is not the media’s fault!

That's Not Love

VERSE 1

Fondling her tits doesn’t make you a stud

She hates it even more when you grab her butt

This isn’t the classic tale of Romeo & Juliet

This is a traumatic nightmare she won’t forget

Every time you snap an unwanted photograph

Every time you crudely joke and nobody laughs

She’s thinking of spraying you right in the eyes

Even if it takes her more than fifty fucking tries

CHORUS

That’s! Not! Love! X2

VERSE 2

Fifty shades of sexualized violence

Fifty shades of embarrassed silence

Fifty shades of suicidal misery

Fifty shades of unsolvable mysteries

Touch her again and you’ll draw back a stump

Arrogant preening doesn’t give you the right to hump

Your washboard abs don’t mean fucking shit

Keep your goddamn hands off her fucking tits

EXTENDED CHORUS 1

That’s! Not! Love!

That’s! Not! Love!

This! Is! A Crime!

You! Will! Do Time!

VERSE 3

Great job, Romeo, you’ve found new romance

That’s why you’re wearing low baggy pants

It’s prison code for, “I want your load”

You’ll be squealing like a pig, croaking like a toad

There is no reward for sexual harassment

There is no future for a sexual assassin

I don’t give a fuck who the president is

Nobody wants your disgusting ass jizz

EXTENDED CHORUS 2

That’s! Not! Love!

That’s! Not! Love!

This! Is! A Crime!

You! Will! Do Time!

Passionate love is a legitimate emotion

But not when you’ve got a stalker’s devotion

Not when your dick is a lethal weapon

Not when you’re a sex offender level seven

FINAL LINE

This! Is! Not! Fucking! Love!

Obnoxious Characters

Obnoxious characters are not always fun to read about, but they are the most necessary. While it would be nice to have every single character in a story be relatable and charming, it’s not true to the real world. These obnoxious characters can be anybody from a screaming street preacher to a psychopathic child molester. The world certainly has no shortage of people who fit these archetypes. When we’re their victims, we don’t see any need to relate to them on a personal level. When bank robbers are holding victims hostage, the victims’ first thought isn’t going to be, “I wish they were more charming” or “They must be hurting on the inside.” Their first thoughts are probably going to be something like, “Please get us out of here!” or “Will someone shoot these assholes in the head?!” But then you have something called Stockholm Syndrome, where a captive learns to depend on his kidnapper in a relationship akin to romance or family. Even then, when the victim is free, they’re going to be doing summersaults and back flips when they finally return to their original families. It’s a harsh reality that we have to live with sociopaths, but it still is reality. Of course, there’s also the argument that when someone reads a book or goes to a movie, they’re engaging in escapism. People like to go to The Hobbit in order to visit a world of dragons and fantasy, something they wouldn’t otherwise get in their current reality. But even then, there will still be characters that you root for and characters you’re rooting against. In the case of The Hobbit, you cheer for Bilbo Baggins and against that one-armed orc warrior whose name escapes me. But what if you have a story where everybody is capable of being a villain? Then who do you root for? It wouldn’t be completely out of line to wish that a meteor would come crashing down from the heavens and shatter the bones of everybody in the story. It’ll never happen, but sometimes the bad guys get away with whatever they’re doing. In the Saw series, the Jigsaw Killer gets away with murder every single time. And yet, it still counts as escapism because there’s an element of fantasy in these gory movies. In the end, it comes down to which side of the fantasy-reality spectrum you’re on. If you don’t care who wins in the end, then you’re siding with reality. If you always want the good guys to win, then you’re a little closer toward fantasy. But no matter which side you find yourself on, obnoxious characters will always exist whether you want them to or not. Lord knows I’ve had to put up with Ari from NCIS for a long, long time. And the heel version of Michael Cole from the WWE? He got jammed down our throats every night one of those shows was on the air. If you expect justice in every single story you immerse yourself in, you’re going to be sorely disappointed sometimes.

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“And the world spreads its legs for another fucking star! ‘Cause I am the all-American antichrist! I was made in America and America hates me for what I am! I am your shit! You should be ashamed of what you have eaten!”

-Intro to “Rock n’ Roll Nigger” by Marilyn Manson-